Page 2 of The Colonel's Ungovernable Governess
“The twins are with the governess at William’s Wood. Lady Annabelle is away at school in Bath.”
Edward had always wanted children, so, he often found time, when his duties to the army permitted it, to call upon his brother’s stepchildren. “I would wish to reassure the children they will be safe, even if another upheaval in their lives should occur.”
* * *
Jocelyn hurried through the house in hopes of convincing her mother to return to London. Rusticating in the English countryside was not her idea of living. She wished for more—something to which she could not place a name. She paused on the balcony overlooking the foyer. This was her father’s home—the place where he had been born, as well as where she had been born; yet, she still felt as if she had no roots.
Lord Joseph Romfield had married Miss Celine de Bourgh, the sister of a wealthy baronet, shortly after he came into his title. As the story went, soon they learned of her presence, but she was not to grow up in England, for her father had accepted a position as a British diplomat on the Continent. Jocelyn spent many of her early years in Spain.
Though she would not admit it to anyone, Jocelyn never felt as if she was “enough,” mainly because, despite her presence in their lives, her parents grieved, for they had never delivered another child. For years, they knew disappointment after disappointment. “I was never what they desired,” she whispered as she looked down on the open foyer. For seven years, Lord and Lady Romfield continued on with the typical British stiff upper lip, but, with each miscarriage or stillbirth, they had withdrawn from her—actually, from everything but duty.
When Jocelyn was a little over ten years of age, her mother managed to deliver a son: Andrew would be the heir to the barony. The child arrived some six weeks early—small, but fully formed, and a “hallelujah” was heard throughout the family and her father’s staff.
“Andrew Benjamin David Romfield,” she whispered. Her brother was a menace, but Jocelyn adored him as much as the rest of the family. Unfortunately, Andrew’s birth only increased the lack of affection Jocelyn was to know. No matter what she had executed to please her parents, it was always Andrew her parents preferred; therefore, she had taken a different approach, one of living outrageously.
“There you are,” her mother said, looking up to the overhang. “Did not Bessie tell you I wished to speak to you?”
“I was on my way,” Jocelyn declared as she made her way down the stairs. “Should I ring for tea?”
“Perhaps afterwards,” her mother said curtly, meaning she meant to read Jocelyn another version of the riot act. Her ladyship waited at the door to permit Jocelyn to enter the sitting room first. As her mother closed the door, she instructed, “Please have a seat. I have heard from your father.”
“Has he set a date to join us in England?” Despite often feeling set adrift on her own, Jocelyn adored her father. Actually, she also adored her mother, but they were often at odds.
“It will be another two or three months,” her mother explained, “but soon.” Her ladyship sat across from Jocelyn. “My dear, we must address what occurred in London and why it was necessary for us to leave before we were prepared to do so.”
“I shan’t say I am grieved, Mother,” Jocelyn declared in her defense, “if that is what you wish of me. All I did was waltz with a handsome gentleman.”
“You waltzed with a rogue—a man known for debauching more than one young lady,” her mother corrected. “A man of whom you knew I would never have agreed to your accepting as a dance partner. You purposely waited until I stepped out of the hall to the retiring room and ignored Lady Ashworth’s warnings. Moreover, Lady Jersey had not presented you permission to waltz. We are banned from Almack’s until your father may speak to the patronesses on your behalf.”
“I am a few months away from my majority,” Jocelyn protested. “And who are they to decide if I might dance or not? On the Continent, no one questioned my right to choose!”
“Such is where you err, my child. Many objected, including your parents, but you repeatedly refused to adhere to our cautions.”
Jocelyn switched her approach. “I realize, in hindsight, what I did was not quite the proper thing, but, I assure you, Lord Sizemore only asked of my life on the Continent.” She glanced up to her mother, but a frown was on her ladyship’s features, meaning her mother was not impressed by Jocelyn’s explanation.
“Not quite ‘the thing’ is an understatement, Jocelyn,” her mother said in harsh tones. “Your father and I chose to return to England so you might claim a husband suitable to your position in society.”
“I do not wish to marry,” Jocelyn protested.
“Enough!” her mother warned. “You must realize what you do affects all of your family. Your father. Me. Andrew. And even the servants who are employed in this household. You have dared to step outside the circle of propriety one too many times.”
Jocelyn despised this moment, just as she had despised all such moments previously. She loved her family and did not wish to know their disappointment in her; yet, she felt so lonely every day of her life.
Her mother swallowed a steadying breath. “Never mind. We possess a means to set society’s opinion of you aright. I received word today: He has agreed to take your acquaintance and perhaps pursue a joining. Despite this latest folly, there is a chance he will know nothing of this misstep.”
“Of what do you speak?” Jocelyn demanded. “Who has agreed to accept my acquaintance?”
“In truth, I am surprised he has agreed. I casually knew his father, for his father is brother to my brother’s wife.”
“Brother to Lady Catherine de Bourgh?” Jocelyn asked. She had only encountered Lady Catherine once when Jocelyn was perhaps seven or eight. Sir Louis, her mother’s only brother, and his wife and daughter, who was near fifteen at the time, called upon Jocelyn’s family while they were on holiday and on their way to Italy. Upon first sight, Jocelyn had feared the woman. If Lady Catherine’s brother was even half as intimidating as was her ladyship, Jocelyn wished nothing to do with the man or any of his family.
“Why do we not simply return to London?” she pleaded. “I will do the pretty and humbly apologize to both Lady Jersey and Princess Esterhazy, no matter how fat-rumped they may be.”
“Such language!” her mother tutted. “It might be one thing to ask the Almack’s patronesses to forgive you if you were even a smidgen apologetic for your actions, but all you do is manipulate everyone for your own benefit! You have refused no less than four offers of marriage in the last year and a half!”
“None of them stirred my heart,” she argued.
“You will be congenial to the man when he comes to call at Romfield Hall, which will be in the next fortnight,” her mother instructed.
